The Patroller and the Thief
by ellameno
Summary: After a long day of crime-fighting at X High School, Safety Patrol Officer Ingrid Third finally wraps up her two week-long solo undercover operation, but not without a couple of battle wounds. Exhausted, sore, and her only desire being to go home and relax, she didn't realize how much she needed her partner until he, quite literally, came knocking on her door. IF
1. Patroller Unmasked

**The Patroller and the Thief**

**Yes, my rumored "BIG" Fillmore! story is here! Finally finished! (Hopefully I caught all the typos and grammar stuff; it's a tad hard being my own beta reader.) I'm splitting it up into chapters since it's so long (21 pages after editing from 23 pages) so I'll probably post one chapter per week, how's that sound? I'd say it would depend on reviews, but I won't be so mean. **

**So please, read on, enjoy and remember: I don't own Fillmore! **

**xXxXx**

**Chapter 1 – Patroller Unmasked**

**xXxXx**

"You got it, Dee?"

"I thought you'd never ask," I said, sending him a flirtatious wink. I removed the bobby pin from the back of my black belt and knelt down, eye-level with the doorknob, and started to work at the lock as I struggled to regain my old notorious criminal "mojo". I guess you could call it that. You wouldn't have been able to tell by my skillfully steady hands, but my nerves wouldn't leave me alone.

You see, this wasn't my thing; breaking and entering with criminal intentions. Well, it used to be; I _was_ a juvenile delinquent at one point, but not anymore.

My name – my _real_ name – is Ingrid Third. I'm an X High School Safety Patrol officer. This is what I do in my undercover op spare time: I assume fake identities (the current being Deana Brewster; computer genius and lock-pick extraordinaire), I infiltrate the bad guys' gang and save the day, or whatever else it is I'm supposed to be saving, whether it's the school's chalk supply, a drama club's performance, or even the reputation of a scholar.

But, usually, I'm not alone.

The lock clicked.

Wade Canton looked at his watch, but while the black ski mask he was wearing didn't allow me to see his face, the sound in his voice and the glint in his evergreen eyes revealed to me that he was smiling.

"Thirteen seconds," he said, trying to suppress the sound of approval in his tone, "not too bad, Brewster."

"Not my best, either," I told him.

"You ready?" he asked.

I stood up, putting the deformed bobby pin back in its place on my belt. "Whenever you are."

He took a small flashlight from his tool belt. "Let's do this."

Don't worry. Canton was _not_ my partner. He was my target; a chronic thief determined to prove himself higher and worse than any other delinquent X had seen, and he had been doing just that. He'd been the elusive ringleader of almost a dozen attempted heists at X within that past year. Nine of them had been either hoaxes or were thwarted by us, the Safety Patrol, and only two of them had succeeded. One: a rather excessive and quite devastating attack on the high school drama club's reenactment of A Christmas Carol in early November, which resulted in some injured actors, a slightly concussed safety patrol officer, and a completely destroyed set. A short two weeks later, there was a successful break in into Principal Folsom's office at X Middle, which resulted in some stolen personal belongings (which were rather valuable) and her entire office being trashed. That's when the Junior Commissioner, Horatio Vallejo, and X High's principal, John Appleton, put us to work helping out the X Middle Safety Patrol once the threat to turn their HQ into a tanning salon was made.

Well, they put _me_ to work, with everyone else working behind the scenes to ensure a successful infiltration of Canton's personal life and leaving my unhappy partner to look out for me undetected in the shadows, which was one of his specialties.

His name is Cornelius Fillmore – _he's_ my partner.

And he should be here any minute.

I opened the door to the school's private warehouse quietly and slowly, the hinges squeaking quietly and forebodingly in the silence. There had been "rumors" – spread initially, of course, by the Safety Patrol to make sure that Canton took the bait – that there was a vault hidden in this warehouse, said to contain every penny the school treasury had.

And, of course, wanting to prove to the world that he was a _real_ thief, Wade Canton just couldn't resist.

He had to have it.

He entered first, pulling out a flashlight from his belt and shining it around the room as I shut the door quietly behind us. Without turning to look at me, he said, "Where we going, babe?"

I removed the black sack from my shoulder and searched for the blueprints some of my coworkers, Joseph Anza and Karen Tehama, planted in the school archives which I "broke in to" (Fillmore just set up a drop one night, all covertly and everything). Little did Canton know they were totally fake.

Oh. You're probably wondering why he called me "babe".

You _did_ notice how I said that I had to "successfully infiltrate Canton's personal life", right? So, I did just that.

We were sort of dating.

I pulled out the blueprints and set them down on a nearby crate labeled "colored pencils", rolling out the scroll as Canton shined the flashlight at the treasure map.

I pointed to the right edge of the paper where the dimensions of the warehouse were labeled. "According to the blue prints, this entire wall-" I pointed to the wall we were facing. "-should be straight. The building should be like a rectangle."

Canton looked around, surveying the warehouse from the inside. "The building looks rectangle to me, Dee."

I shook my head. "It _is _rectangle in here, Wade. But didn't you see the building from the outside?" For a moment, Canton looked stumped, but then realization shone in his eyes.

"There was an extra wall."

I grinned. "Exactly. You catch on pretty fast."

"If we didn't have masks on," he said as I rolled up the blueprints and shoved them in my backpack, "I'd probably kiss you."

I stood up, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. _You probably won't be thinking that soon,_ I thought.

"Save it for later babe, we've got a job to do," I said, adding a phony affectionate giggle for emphasis.

"So where are we headed?" he asked.

I pointed in the direction the wall was supposed to be. "This way."

Not wasting any time, Canton and I jogged over to the other end of the building to actually find, not a fake wall, but that there _was_ no fake wall.

Did I mention the blueprint was a fake?

"Dee?"

"Yeah?"

"Where's the wall?"

Feigning shock, I stammered, "I-I don't know Wade, it should be here!" Canton scanned the area with his flashlight, turning in circles on the spot.

"We need to get out of here," he said, barely hiding the panic in his voice. I nodded in agreement but when we turned to run, a voice rang out from the darkness.

"Going somewhere Canton?"

Canton and I froze on the spot as Fillmore stepped out of the shadows where the fake wall was supposed to be. His orange Safety Patroller's belt contrasted brightly from the darkness of his skin and the room around him as he stepped into the faint light streaming in from the windows and our flashlights.

Canton grabbed my gloved hand and we took off in the other direction. That's when the lights snapped on, the sound of the switches resounding through the warehouse and more Safety Patrol officers then stood in our way. We were boxed in between wooden pallets to my left, patrollers in front and behind us, and crates to my right.

Again, we turned and ran in the other direction, but there Fillmore, Anza and Tehama stood, blocking our exit.

"It's over, Canton," Fillmore said as he crossed his arms and sent me a nod, which I probably wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't been staring straight at him.

Now to my left, Canton looked between me, the patrollers and the exit, as if trying to find a way out. Not finding one, he reluctantly lifted his hands in surrender. I did the same, wanting to maintain my cover as long as possible before Fillmore gave me the signal.

Fillmore grinned at me. "You okay, Ingrid?"

I heaved a sigh of relief, my heartbeat slowing as both my mind and body realized that the job was done. Canton looked down at me as I grabbed the back of my ski mask, leaned down and pulled it off, my shoulder length black hair falling from the hat.

"Yeah," I said, running my hands through my hair, "I'm fine."

The hurt and shock in Canton's green eyes was something I never expected to see.

"Dee-"

"My name-" I reached towards the top of his head and pulled off his mask. "-is Ingrid Third. Sorry to disappoint."

I couldn't get over the look on his face; his messed up blonde hair, fair skin, and the mask of pure hurt – a mask I could never pull off. I set the masks down on the top of the pallets next to me, took another deep breath and struggled to keep a straight face, feigning exhausting to try and subtly appease the guilt rising in my chest.

I didn't even have time to react.

Canton had me in his arms, but not in the affectionate, I-think-I-love-you kind of way he had been holding me for the past week or so. It was more like the hostile, you-move-you-die kind of way, one where he had one arm around my stomach and the other holding a knife to my throat.

Well, that got out of hand really fast.

Fillmore's cool demeanor quickly vanished. Adrenaline flooded my body and blood raced through my veins, as if it was searching for a way out. I had to push down the fear before it got the better of me; jobs have gone bad before, and I've gotten into a plenty of jams, especially when the truth revealed itself and bonds of trust had been broken… but they had never gone to an extreme like this. Weapons had never been involved.

"Ingrid!"

"I want a deal!" Canton shouted.

Okay. Focus, Third. _How on earth am I supposed to get out of _this_?_ I thought.

Fillmore and Canton swapped back and forth some kind of witty banter that my ears never really processed as escape plans formulated in my head, none of them with an ending that didn't involve me getting hurt in one way or another.

So, before I could even second guess what I was doing and chicken out, I reacted.

My right hand shot up, coming under the arm that had the weapon to my throat and I pushed the weapon away.

"Ingrid!"

My sudden movement startled Canton; he moved to slit my throat, but caught the palm of my right hand instead, the blade falling from his hand as I pushed his arm away. The blade stung and burned as it pierced my skin, blood seeping from the fresh cut in my palm, but I didn't have time to focus on the pain. I launched my elbow behind me to get him in the gut, but, with a menacing shout, he grabbed me and, using all of his weight, he slammed me into the pallets, his shoulder pinning my chest down and knocking the breath out of me in one go.

I felt his fist connect with my jaw and then my ribcage multiple times before Fillmore ran up from the side, grabbed Canton and threw him the short space across the walkway. I wasn't paying much attention, but as I sank to my hands and knees, gasping for air and hanging my head, I couldn't help but hear a couple of punches being thrown as the rest of the Safety Patrollers collapsed on the patroller and the thief.

"Fillmore, stop!" Anza shouted.

Canton was cursing and shouting at me, struggling to break away from the officers. "I trusted you!" he shouted. Feeling the blood pool beneath my right hand, I balled my hand into a fist, hoping to slow the bleeding, but not quite wanting the pain to leave; it helped block out Canton's shouts and the pain in my heart.

"That was kind of the point," I heard Tehama tell him.

I saw someone kneel down in front of me and then felt a hand on my shoulder.

"You all right?"

I looked into Fillmore's warm brown eyes which were the complete contrasts of Canton's cold and unforgiving emerald irises. I grimaced as the warm blood seeped between my fingers, my ribcage pounding in protest as I struggled to get the air back into my lungs.

"You're really going to ask me that, Fillmore?" I gasped, my jaw throbbing as I spoke.

He chuckled. "Sorry, it's a standard question."

Canton continued to curse and scream as the other patrollers dragged him away.

"Here," Fillmore said, holding out his arm, "give me your arm."

Without hesitating, I put my right arm across his shoulders, welcoming my partner's help for the first time in two weeks, and used my uninjured hand to help push myself up off the ground.

My entire chest hurt.

And it wasn't just from Canton's fists.

Steadying me by a firm hand on both my arm and waist, Fillmore pulled me off of the ground, lingering for barely a moment before stepping back slightly to look me in the eyes.

"You never answered my question," he told me as I removed my hands from his broad shoulders.

"Third!"

The both of us looked behind us to find Vallejo being followed by Principal Appleton, a confident stride in both of their steps. Fillmore stepped to my right, facing the two men.

"Well Ingrid, I believe a 'congratulations' are in order," Appleton, clad in a suit and tie, his blue eyes shining bright with pride. I held my bleeding fist in my hand, rather sheepishly, and sent him a nod.

"Thanks," I said, and then looking at Fillmore added, "but I couldn't have done it alone." I smiled at him, and he smiled back down at me. He had gotten taller since our first days at X Middle, reaching a good five foot ten; the years of Safety Patrol really treated him well, physically speaking, to say the least. _Crackers, Third. Snap out of it._

"Of course you couldn't have, Ms. Third," Appleton said, looking over at Vallejo, "your entire Safety Patrol has done a marvelous job bringing this creep to justice. It would be wrong not to thank all of you. You really stuck your necks out there tonight." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Fillmore staring down at me, but I avoided looking back at him for the time being.

"Some more than others," I heard him whisper to me. I faltered for a moment, his soft voice cutting through me like Canton's knife had, his words echoing through my head as I looked at him warily from the corner of my eye.

He had no idea.

"Just doing our job, Principal Appleton," Vallejo told Appleton.

"Yeah," Fillmore said with a familiar tone in his voice that made you dread of what was going to follow it. He used that tone a lot when he didn't think the job was done. "Although, the job has its hazards," he continued, still looking down worriedly at me, "and I don't think I can say I've seen it get more dangerous than it has tonight."

I looked into his eyes, trying to reassure him by saying, "I'm fine, Fillmore."

"Well, you should be on your way to the infirmary Ms. Third and get yourself patched up," Appleton told me, and then looked at Fillmore, "and you as well."

I wasn't sure why at first – I thought he meant I needed and escort or something – but as Fillmore started to speak, Principal Appleton explained himself.

"You forget this entire building was rigged with cameras for the heist, Fillmore," he said, looking up at the ceiling and pointing to the general location of many well hidden cameras, "and that the Commissioner here and I were watching. After the beating you gave Canton, I can imagine your hand must need a professional check up."

Fillmore and I both looked down at his hand, and, as if he was just noticing it, he tried to clench his hand, only to wince in pain. "Dawg," he groaned.

I did my best to smile at him, despite the throb in my jaw, and said, "Well, the job does have its hazards. Doesn't it, Fillmore?"

Fillmore grinned and said to Vallejo, "We'll be back at HQ soon."

"Take your time, guys," Vallejo replied, "We can take it from here. Nice job tonight, Third."

I put on as big of a smile as I could manage with a throbbing mandible, and said, "Thanks, Vallejo." Fillmore turned around and guided me towards the door, a hand at my back, and I couldn't help but feel this awful, disgusting feeling rising in my chest, like something was making its way up from my stomach; some kind of ugly monster.

The job was done. I should have been relieved. It was one of the biggest busts in X history. I should have been proud.

I couldn't have been more ashamed.


	2. Afflictions of the Heart

**The Patroller and the Thief**

**So here we are: chapter two. A day early, just because I felt like it, and I really wanted to see what you guys think! **

**Read on!**

**xXxXx**

**Chapter Two – Afflictions of the Heart**

**xXxXx**

I dreaded walking back into HQ. Rumor had it that we were keeping Canton in our interrogation room until the police could come and pick him up; not only was stealing a criminal offense, assault with a weapon was a felony in itself, and to top it all off, he was on school grounds when the crimes were committed. Especially since he was 18, he'd be spending some time (albeit minimal, since he didn't succeed in any of the above) in jail for his crimes, plus expulsion.

The police weren't there yet.

I didn't think I could face Wade.

I stopped in front of the Safety Patrol door, clutching the ice pack the nurse had given me in my uninjured hand, taking as deep of a breath as I could, what with my bruised sternum and aching chest, before opening the door.

Silence fell as I walked into the room. Dozens of eyes turned in my direction, but the silence was broken almost as quick as it had fallen.

"Let's hear it for Third!" someone shouted from the back of the room, and the HQ burst into claps and cheers. I put on a small smile, my jaw still tight and sore from getting punched in the face but turned towards the direction of Fillmore's desk, despite all the congratulations and praises being thrown my way.

Fillmore stared at me with a proud smile on his dark face as he wrapped an ace bandage subconsciously around his right hand. There was something about that smirk on his face, the glint in his dark eyes, the cool demeanor in which he tended to his injuries that made me realize something, something so significant.

I really missed my partner.

Some of the patrollers came up to me, patted me on the shoulder or attempted to shake my hand. I nodded at each of them but held up a bandaged hand at them apologetically as I sauntered towards the back of the room. Fillmore secured his bandage with a clip and looked back up at me as I approached and tossed my ice pack lazily on his desk.

"You probably need it more than I do," I told him as I sat down on the edge of my desk, my left hand in my black skinny jeans pocket and my right, injured hand resting on my lap.

Fillmore chuckled, stared at the ice pack with indignation, and pushed it back towards me. "Thanks, but I think I can handle a little pain."

I scoffed. "Oh please. You're as fragile as a flower. Need I remind you of the Christmas Carol incident?"

Fillmore laughed, shook his head, and came back, saying, "Hey Third, that solid backdrop was pretty heavy, I'll have you know. It's not my fault it fell on me while I was trying to save an innocent actor."

I held up a finger. "Correction – act_ress_. And I think she liked witnessing your little god complex first hand. She kept asking for you after you left the scene on a stretcher, all concussed and vulnerable."

Fillmore chuckled and held up his arms in an exaggerated shrug. "I've got this awful affliction, Ingrid. You're really lucky you don't have it. It's called the Fillmore Charm." He leaned back, spread out his arms and nodded, as if it was obvious. "It _does_ tend to stun the ladies."

Good point.

I shook my head, bit my lip to prevent myself from smiling, and said, "Wow. I'm impressed, Fillmore."

"With what?" Fillmore ran a hand over his bald head. "My good looks?"

"No," I told him. Well, yes, but he didn't need to know that, for many different reasons. I digressed, "That you know what affliction means."

"Well, when you're best friends with a girl who's got photographic memory and reads the dictionary in her spare time, little things like that tend to stick to you."

We shared a laugh, but I instantly regretted it as my chest throbbed in protest, my ribs screaming as they moved. I groaned and held my stomach, applying subtle pressure to help relieve some of the pain with my uninjured hand. Fillmore sat up in concern at my sudden display of pain.

"Ugh, don't make me laugh," I said, biting back another groan. Fillmore opened his mouth to speak when the door to the HQ suddenly opened and Principal Appleton's voice was heard.

"Right this way, officers."

All heads turned to the doorway where two uniformed police officers were following Appleton into the interrogation room.

They were coming for Canton.

My heart sank inside me, an unfamiliar dread spreading from my chest into every inch of my body, nailing me to where I sat.

"Ingrid, you okay?" Fillmore asked me; his voice was soft, yet so loud as it pulled me out of my catatonia. I looked over at him. He was staring at me and somehow his brown eyes soothed all the unease within me.

I nodded in response. "Yeah, I'm fine."

A small smirk adorned Fillmore's face; one of those smirks that he gave a suspect when they told him a story he didn't quite believe in; the one that, despite me not wanting to admit it, always made me swoon, but only a little. Fillmore looked down at his injured hand that was in his lap and said to me, "You know Ingrid, you do that a lot."

"Do what?"

He looked back up. "You say you're fine when you're not. Obviously not."

I bit the inside of my cheek out of guilt. I've always hated keeping things from my partner, my one true friend, but what was there to tell him? And where would I even begin? So much had passed between the last two weeks.

"Don't touch me!"

Every patrol officer in the HQ, including Fillmore and me, stood in alarm as the door to the interrogation room abruptly flew open, bouncing off of the wall and revealed a resisting Wade Canton, who was wielding a shiny pair of handcuffs, two officers on each side of him, and a swollen black eye, no doubt the courtesy of my partner. I had to remind myself to ask Fillmore about why that went down so badly later.

Wade looked over in my direction. He stopped and stared at me as the cops continued to drag him out of the room. I couldn't help but stare back.

No words were exchanged. But words couldn't have hurt me any worse than that dreadful, distraught and wild look in his sharp green eyes did. They were eyes that once sparkled with mischief and rebellion but then only shone with subtle tears.

Principal Appleton followed the trio out of headquarters, shutting the door quietly behind him, interrupting our gaze. Moments later I felt my legs start to give out from under me. My knees were shaking and my feet suddenly ached, as if they were too weak to hold my body weight. I leaned back against my desk, desperate for something solid to give my crumbling composure some stability. I took as deep of a breath as I could, wincing as the pain resurfaced, both in my stomach and heart, and placed a hand on my forehead, hoping to relieve some of the pressure that was slowly beginning to build.

Fillmore got up and leaned against the desk next to me on my left, our thighs barely touching, and I looked at him. I could see my burdened reflection in his glasses but I was too tired to try and hide it now.

"What's on your mind, Ingrid?" he asked me with a solemn, understanding look in his eyes which held more care that anyone could ever fathom. That was the side of Fillmore I'm sure only a certain few ever saw, a side he kept hidden to the general peeping eye. That side held his deepest desires, his darkest secrets, and all of his treasures, whether they were his values, the morals he believed in or the people he cared about the most.

That was the side that only came out whenever people were judged unfairly, like X had me when I first arrived, or when something he strongly believed in was compromised or challenged, or when someone he loved was being threatened or hurt.

The side only a delinquent redeemed could possess.

"Nothing," I lied, begging my eyes to back up my story, "I'm fine."

Fillmore raised his eyebrows. Crackers.

"I'm…" I searched for the right words to say. Fillmore didn't push. He only stared down at me, waiting patiently for me to let him in.

I couldn't burden him with my feelings. Not now, at least, and most certainly not here.

"I've been better," I admitted. "But I'll be all right."

"Hey Fillmore, Ingrid!" Anza walked up with Tehama, O'Farrell and Vallejo behind him, each teen dressed in their winter gear, prepared for the bitter winter cold.

Tehama spoke up first. "We're going out to grab something to eat, you guys wanna come?"

Anza put his gloves on his hands and winked at me. "How does the Egg Rollery sound, Ingrid?"

Of course egg rolls were involved.

"No thanks guys," I replied, pointing a finger towards my jaw. "I'd rather not chew."

Fillmore looked down at me; even while sitting down, he still managed to be taller than I was, even if it wasn't by much. "You sure?"

I nodded. "Yeah," I told him, "I've got a date with my pillow. I still have to break the news of all of this-" I lifted my bandaged hand towards my bruised face. "-to my dad, anyway."

Tehama winced. "Oh. Haven't told him yet, huh?"

I shrugged. "I didn't want to bother doing it twice by calling him _and_ coming home like this."

"Yeah, talk about news," O'Farrell chimed in. "Canton got you good Ingrid! He's lucky I wasn't there, I would have done a bigger number on him than Fillmore did!"

Laughs erupted among our group, and I had to force myself not to join in, although I'm still not sure which would have hurt more; laughing or forcing myself not to.

"Hey, what's so funny?" O'Farrell asked, putting his fists on his hips in defense.

"You don't really think you could've taken Canton out, do you Danny?" Vallejo asked, "When we go to the gym, you can barely beat the punching bags in a fight!"

Fillmore, being the ever-witty ex-delinquent he is, subtly defended O'Farrell by saying to Vallejo with a grin, "Yeah, coming from the guy who can't run on the treadmill without hurting himself, that's really funny."

Everyone laughed again, and I struggled for a steady breath.

"Well, we're not talking about me right now," Vallejo said, sending a glare directly at Fillmore, which he seemed to do a lot.

Anza sighed at the dejected look on O'Farrell's pale and freckled face and patted him comfortably on his shoulder as everyone bantered on. "It's okay, buddy," he told him. "Beating people up is overrated." O'Farrell shoved his hands into his green coat pockets and looked down at the ground.

"Anyway," Tehama continued, looking at Fillmore, "what about you Fillmore? Fancy some Chinese?"

"Yeah, I'm down." Fillmore stood up, placing his bandaged hand softly and quickly on my knee before he walked over to his chair and grabbed his coat. It was swift; I wasn't sure if anyone else noticed it, or if they were even supposed to.

"You sure you don't wanna come with, Ingrid?" Anza asked.

I nodded, waving towards the door. "Just go." I stood up and grabbed my black wool coat off the back of my chair. "I'm gonna head home."

Fillmore turned off his desk lamp and put on his brown leather jacket, the one that gives him this authoritative stride. Not quite cocky, but confident. I wonder if he ever noticed how well that jacket accentuated those broad shoulders and his already sculpted muscles-

Whoa, Third. Relax.

"You need a ride, Ingrid?" Fillmore asked as everyone retreated towards the door and he snatched his car keys from the top right drawer of his desk.

I shook my head, both to get rid of those irritating thoughts and in response to his question.

"No," I responded, holding back a groan as pains shot through my stomach as I struggled to put on my coat. "I've got my car out back." I quickly scanned my photographic memory for where I put my keys and placed my hand over my left hand pocket. There they were.

"Ours are too," he said, scratching his cheek just under his eye with his finger, "I'll walk you out."

There's nothing like a subtle, undercover-assignment-approved wink to say "we are going to talk whether you like it or not, sooner or later." The wink was a thing Fillmore and I had together. Instead of the obvious wink, we created our own version, just between the two of us.

The Safety Patrol HQ was empty in record time once Vallejo exited; him leaving was always everyone's cue to follow, and since it was extremely late the Friday of a three day weekend, everyone was already in a hurry to leave.

The usual banter the patrollers shared was present as we all made our way to our cars. My black Monte Carlo sat in the area of the parking lot which was farthest from the school, in an attempt to not be seen by my now ex-partner Wade Canton. Fillmore and I walked in silence until we broke apart from the mob of justice-seeking teenagers. I clutched the keys in my pocket, bracing myself for what I knew Fillmore was about to say. I would say I could cut the tension with a knife, but that wouldn't have been the best metaphor to use at the time. What would he say? How would I respond?

My heart leaped in anxiety when he finally spoke up halfway to my car. "So what's on your mind, Ingrid?"

I shrugged. "Nothing serious," I responded. "I'm just a bit shaken up. No big deal." Total lie. I was falling apart inside, and I think Fillmore sensed that because he said:

"That's cute, you know."

"What is?"

"How you think you can get by with that." He looked down at me as we approached my car. I took the keys from my pocket and unlocked the car, the lights flashing on the inside as I did so. "Ingrid," he continued with an outstretched hand that motioned towards the school, "I saw how you reacted in there when the cops came for Canton."

I shook my head. "It's just been a long night Fillmore, I'll be all right," I reassured him, but I knew he wouldn't budge.

"No, it's been a long two weeks," he corrected, "and I know you better than that, Ingrid. Whatever's bugging you isn't gonna leave you alone."

I opened the driver's door to get inside but Fillmore stood in front of me and shut the door. I glared at him, but didn't say a word as he looked into my eyes with those warming brown irises of his that stunned me into silence. "Ingrid, you know I'm here for you. Be straight with me."

His eyes alone begged me. I wasn't sure I could handle him pleading with me out loud as well. This didn't normally happen. I wasn't emotionally stable enough for it.

But I sighed, and put my left hand against my temple. My photographic brain quickly ran through every single thing that had happened to me within those two weeks, all of the things I had to go through without my partner, without my best friend, and I couldn't bear to see Fillmore so solemn and worried.

"Fillmore, I-" I involuntarily stopped speaking as my voice faltered from mental and physical exhaustion, as if a barricade formed in my throat and stopped my voice from leaving, preventing a dark secret from escaping. I looked down at my feet and searched for something to say that wouldn't completely break me.

His hand found my arm and an unstoppable shudder ran through me as I thought of how high the possibility of me losing every bit of composure I had in the middle of the parking lot was.

Again – not here. Not now.

"I've just got some things to figure out Fillmore," I finally said, taking in a shaky breath. When I looked back up at my partner, he held a sympathetic, heartfelt look in his eyes, and he didn't reject my answer. "I'll be all right, I promise."

He nodded and opened the door again, a silent apology for stopping me before. I nodded back at him and sat down behind the wheel, shutting the door behind me. As I started the car he tapped on the window with a knuckle and I rolled it down. I give him an exasperated look but waited patiently for him to continue talking.

"You know you can call me whenever for whatever, right Ingrid?" he told me, leaning against the top of the car with his forearm.

"I know," I said, too exhausted to nod, but smiled at him instead. "Thanks."

"Always," he replied. "Late."

"Late, Fillmore." I rolled the window back up as he backed away and started to walk towards his car across the lot. The heat from the vents warmed my fingers as they gripped the steering wheel, and I stared at the bandage on my right hand and winced as I squeezed the wheel which made a sharp sting shock my palm.

Dad was going to love talking me about all this.

I started off into the night with nothing on my troubled mind except my partner. I couldn't help but feel like I had let him down by shutting him out like that.

But I couldn't let him in. How could I burden him with my incomplete thoughts and uncertain emotions?

Exactly – I couldn't.


	3. Those Were the Days

**The Patroller and the Thief**

**Today's Sunday, and you know what that means… UPDATE TIME! Well, just for the heads up, this chapter is a tad shorter than the others, but what can I say, consistency isn't everything. Hah. **

**Enjoy at your own risk. Please. **

**xXxXx**

**Chapter Three – Those Were the Days**

**xXxXx**

It was almost 12:30 when I pulled into my driveway. I removed my seatbelt and sighed in relief as the pressure on my chest vanished with the restraint of the belt. I lingered for a couple of minutes with my head against the headrest and my hands in my lap. My chest, stomach, and back ached and my head throbbed in sync with my heartbeat. I didn't want to move.

I also didn't want to face my father.

But after about five minutes of sitting in the car dreading to walk into the house and explain all of this to him, I turned off the car and got out, shutting the door as quietly as I could and locking it. The bitter winter cold hit me like a tidal wave; the temperature was such a great contrast from the warmth of my car. I walked sluggishly towards the front steps, trying to calm my puzzled and strained mind. All of the lights in the house were on, minus the foyer hallway.

So Dad was awake. Fantastic.

I took a breath to gather the courage to open the door. Immediately after stepping inside, the familiar smell of Ariella's incenses which she insisted she burn in every room of the house hit my nose, involuntarily calming every overactive nerve in my body.

Okay, so maybe the incense idea wasn't such a bad one after all.

I removed my coat and pains shot through my body, mostly originating from my ribcage.

"Ingrid?" I heard my father call from the kitchen. "Is that you?"

I hung the coat on one of the coat hooks on the olive green wall to my right, trying to figure out how I was going to take off my combat boots.

"No Dad," I replied as I slid down the door onto the floor and I instantly regretted doing so as the bruises – which I was sure were on my back – screamed in agony. I quietly cried out as I hit the floor. I reached towards the straps on my boots, my hand stinging in protest, and continued to speak, although strained. "I'm a burglar. I was walking by, saw all the lights on in the house and my whole brain just went 'what the heck', so I broke in. Although, I actually didn't have to since you left the front door unlocked. Again." I kicked off my boots and relaxed against the door. The throb in my chest and back were making it harder and harder to speak so loud. "Now I'm going to tie you to a chair, duct tape your mouth shut, steal all of your valuables and crack that safe you have in your closet."

My dad laughed and I heard him stand and start walking into the hallway where I sat. "My genius teenage daughter is out to ruin me," he joked, appearing in the doorway and smiled down at me. "I'm petrified."

I looked up at him, resting my head against the door behind me with my chin tilted up to reveal my bruised face. "You should be. I'm a ruthless underground fighter now. Beware."

Dad's jaw dropped as he saw the bruise on my face. "Ingrid!" He disappeared for a moment and a second later the hallway light switched on. I grimaced as the bright light pierced my tired eyes which burned as they adjusted to the harsh light. My father ran over to me and kneeled down to my level.

"Ingrid what happened?" he asked, tilting my head with his finger to see the bruise.

"We just had a rough night Dad. I'm okay," I reassured him and made the mistake of brushing his hand away with my bandaged hand. He gasped once more.

"And what happened here?" He turned my hand over in his, palm up, and his eyes widened at the sight of the thin line of blood seeping through the bandages. Before I could respond, he asked another question, one I was hoping to avoid:

"Who did this to you?"

I took my hand back slowly and sat it gently in my lap. "Wade Canton, the guy we've been trying to bust for the past two weeks. When the Safety Patrol came out of the shadows, he got spooked. He took out a knife-"

"A _knife_?" Dad exclaimed.

"I had to fight him off and he cut me a little, it's no big deal," I said but added, "Fillmore took care of him." I was hoping to make him feel a bit better knowing that Canton didn't get off scot-free.

My father finally broke a smile, which eased some of the tension in the small space between us and said, "I don't doubt that he did." Although, he seemed like he wanted to say something else or there was something else on his mind. There was that look in his old, tired eyes that he always got when he was about to say something fatherly and insightful. "Ingrid, how did this happen?"

"What do you mean?"

He sighed and sat down next to me, propping his elbows on his knees and twisting the wedding band on his finger, which he always did when he started thinking about time – past, present, and future – and turned nostalgic.

"How did you go from busting scooter-stealers and chalk-boosters to solving real burglaries that end up involving weapons?" he asked and then looked down at me. I chuckled, in too much pain to laugh, and looked back down at my own hands, trying to find a snarky, witty way to answer that while being serious at the same time.

"Those were the days, weren't they, Dad?" I replied, looking back up at him, and those words couldn't have been truer.

I thought about everything that had happened with Wade and me those past weeks. I couldn't believe how much had passed and how much we had done. As much as I hated to say it, he was the only person I had ever had an intimate relationship with and I still couldn't believe that it was all a lie.

Mostly.

There were definitely moments where I questioned myself and how I felt. I spent half of the undercover operation trying to keep my emotions in check and suffering numerous heart shattering reality checks when we went over the plans to "rob" the school treasury. I didn't have feelings for him, because in the end I could never love someone who was willing to hurt anyone for his own benefit, but that doesn't mean that I didn't feel guilty for hurting him. I had to constantly remind myself who I was and who he was. We were complete opposites of each other; I was the patroller, and he was obviously the thief. He was remorseless, and I wasn't. He was heartless, and I was compassionate.

He was _supposed_ to be heartless, anyway.

He truly had some kind of feelings for me, and I know that was my objective in the first place: to fake my way into his life, to get him to open up and let me in, to break his heart.

But I never would have known how much it would hurt him in the process, and how much it would hurt me to do that.

Maybe he wasn't totally heartless. Maybe I was too compassionate. He was a remorseless and ruthless thief who would hurt anyone he needed to in order to get what he wanted. It didn't matter how much damage he left behind him, as long as he was okay and he got away. I gave him a taste of his own medicine, but something inside me felt that it wasn't medicine. It was poison. And it was killing him.

_Oh yeah, _I thought. _Busting a counterfeit baseball cards ring is so much easier than this._

"Ingrid?"

I looked back at my father, who was still staring down at me, but now in concern.

"Are you all right kiddo?" he asked me, nudging me in the arm with his elbow. I bit the inside of my cheek and nodded.

"Yeah, I'm just tired, Dad," I lied.

Dad gave me a wary look like he didn't believe me – and he had every right not to – but he didn't push the issue. He stood up and held out a hand.

"Then I think it's time you're off to bed, or at least doing something relaxing."

I chuckled and allowed him to pull me off of the ground, groaning in strain as my body screamed at me, scolding me for making too many sudden movements.

"You can't fathom how amazing that sounds to me," I told him as I brushed myself off and sauntered off towards the staircase, leaving an emotionally-destructive trail of guilt in my wake as I subtly grabbed my ribs.

What my father never knew wouldn't hurt him, I thought as I ascended the stairs.

At least, that was what I had hoped.


	4. A Psyche Unleashed

**The Patroller and the Thief**

**Chapter four?! On a **_**holiday?!**_** What **_**is**_** this madness?! **

**WARNING: Gut-wrenching story twist ahead. **

**P.S. Happy Easter. Hash tag you go Jesus, you go! **

**xXxXx**

**Chapter Four – A Psyche Unleashed **

**xXxXx**

I stumbled lazily down the stairs half an hour later, freshly showered and decked in a pair of old black X Middle School sweatpants (yeah, "black" and "X" in the same sentence is unprecedented, I know) and a large grey t-shirt with an obscure emblem on the front. It was now one in the morning, but after a cold shower, which, contrary to my prior knowledge, was refreshing and invigorating. So my mind seemed to be wired while my body was trudging behind it, struggling to keep up with its activity.

I sat down on the lumpy red couch and groaned as I lied down, my aching body sinking into the cushions and creaking as its twisted muscles adjusted. I sprawled out on the couch and waited for my body to assimilate into the furniture and for the pain to dull.

"Ingrid why don't you go sleep in your own bed?" I heard my father say from across the room; he was far off to my left behind the couch so I couldn't see him. "It might be more comfortable."

I groaned.

I heard him chuckle as he approached me. He picked something up off of the side table next to the couch behind my head and when he handed it to me, I saw it was the remote. "Would you like this?"

I groaned once more at the thought of having to move, but stuck out my hand, which shook with effort.

"Thought so," he said, placing the device in my hand and waiting until he was sure I had a good grip on it before letting go. I turned on the TV and sat the remote down on my leg and placed my arms gingerly back to their original place on my stomach. I took a painful deep breath as Dad leaned down and kissed my forehead.

"I'm going to sleep Ingrid," he told me and started towards the hallway and added just before he disappeared, "You should too, you know."

I smiled in response as the TV came on. My photographic memory started acting up as that juvenile jingle played, the host spoke and the crowd cheered; I instantly recognized what show it was. Jerry Springer. I hated that guy, but I wasn't planning on watching anything anyway.

"Night Dad," I said as my gaze remained on the ceiling above me; the ceiling fan whirred up above me as it spun in a monotonous circle, much like the thoughts in my head. I was vaguely aware of my father standing in the doorway watching me, but I unconsciously pushed that away when the realization of the severity of all that had happened within the past couple of weeks came back to me.

I just couldn't stop thinking about Wade.

I know I shouldn't have been feeling so guilty and so hurt – he deserved it, especially after what he did to me, right? – but I couldn't help myself.

I'm not so sure how much time had passed since I had initially turned on the TV before I thought I heard a knock at the front door. It shocked me out of my reverie and made me look at my watch; it was almost 1:30.

I heard it again.

Actually, it sounded more like a kick than a knock.

I struggled to sit up, my muscles groaning with stiffness, and I slowly made my way to the door, my nerves suddenly going into overdrive, my adrenaline rushing through my veins. Who would be _kicking_ at the door in the middle of the night?

Approaching the door, I quietly stood on my tiptoes, placed my fingertips gingerly on the door for support, peered into the peephole and saw my answer.

I reached over, unchained the door, unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door.

"Fillmore."

He was clad in that irritatingly flattering leather jacket of his, an ace bandage and wielded a smoothie from Froyo in one hand with two bags from the Egg Rollery to his chest with his injured arm.

"Don't sound so unhappy to see me."

"It's 1:30 in the morning Fillmore. Most people are asleep."

"You obviously weren't, so what's the deal?"

"Except you wouldn't have come over if you hadn't known I was awake. You wouldn't even know that unless you were spying on me, so what's _your_ deal?" I retorted, quite satisfied with myself upon seeing the flashy grin on his face.

"Well, I was going to call, but since your dad actually called me and _asked_ me to come over it seemed kind of…" he paused, searching for a word, and asked, "what's a good word to describe this?"

I crossed my arms and sent him a glare, despite that I was happy to see him. "Unnecessary?"

"Exactly."

"Wipe that dumb grin off your face, belt."

He grinned wider. Crackers. Why did he have to be such a rebel and look so good doing it in the process?

"What, you're not gonna leave your best friend to freeze outside all alone after such a long night and all the trouble he took just to get here, are you?" he teased and looked at me with his sarcastically pained, undercover-savvy stare with those warm brown eyes of his. I bit the inside of my cheek on the non-swollen side of my face and pretended to deeply consider my options.

I sighed. "Not if that smoothie's for me."

He held out the Froyo cup as the smug half smile appeared on his face. He always smiled that way when he felt like he'd won something; the smile that threatened to make me melt on the inside. Thankfully, I was one of the best undercover operatives in the force, or else he'd most likely be onto me.

"Yeah," he said with a chuckle, "I figured I'd have to pay the toll. And you might be hungry since you can't chew."

I broke my bitter demeanor with as good of a smile as I could manage. I took the smoothie from his hand and grabbed one of the bags from his arm. I pushed the door opened with my back and stepped aside to let him in.

"You might have figured right."

I shut the door as he walked past me, chaining and locking the deadbolt, and we proceeded to the living room where I had been lying for at least half an hour, staring hopelessly and aimlessly at the ceiling. The bags were placed on the table, Fillmore on the couch to my right, and then it was just us. Nothing else in the world, nothing else mattered. Two unlikely heroes of the X community.

But I didn't feel like a hero.

Beside me, Fillmore reached into the Egg Rollery bag and grabbed one of the egg rolls and bit into it. The greasy, delicious smell hit my nose and I instantly ached for one, but I continued to sip the smoothie to quell the hunger.

"So what's been on your mind, Ingrid?" Fillmore asked me, his mouth slightly full, as I sipped on the pomegranate blueberry smoothie thoughtfully.

"There's nothing like kicking aside the crap and getting down to the real business, huh?" I said and I kicked my feet up on the coffee table and held the smoothie in my hands. I ran my thumb across the label, debating what I should tell him.

I guess it's now or never. No one's really giving me a chance to get my thoughts together anyway.

"I don't know, Fillmore," I told him. He didn't ask me to elaborate. Didn't push me to continue. He just finished his egg roll and waited patiently for me to start. He put his arm across the back of the couch and stared at me. "Where do I even start?"

He began to say something, but I stopped him and said, "Don't you dare say 'the beginning'."

He laughed and shook his head. "I was just going to ask how you've been feeling. That might be a start."

I bit my lip, not sure of how I should respond. I put the smoothie back on the table and settled into the couch, sinking into the cushions as much as I could. I couldn't prevent that awful feeling of shame creeping up my stomach.

That was when Fillmore started to push.

"You look like you're sad," he told me, his voice soft. "Like you're hurt."

I closed my eyes. _Now or never, Third._

"I know I should be proud," I started, opening my eyes and staring down at my hands. "I mean, we just cracked the biggest case in X history. And I was in the epicenter of it all. Why wouldn't I be proud?"

"But you're not?" Fillmore asked.

I shook my head, closing my eyes once more in shame. I couldn't believe I was actually going to say all of this. My hands started to shake and I felt myself starting to fall apart. "No, I'm not."

"Why?" he asked, pushing me closer and closer towards the edge. He moved closer to me when I didn't answer. "Ingrid, why?"

I forced back the lump in my throat as the image of Wade's distraught eyes resurfaced. "I hurt him, Fillmore."

Fillmore sighed and shook his head as silence fell over us. "Ingrid, you were just doing your job."

I scoffed and crossed my legs, resting my guilty hands in my lap. "If this is what my job's going to ask of me for the rest of my life then I'm not so sure I want to do this."

Fillmore stiffened next to me. "What are you saying?"

Something inside me suddenly snapped, and everything came spilling out of me, I couldn't stop it. I started to rant hysterically, my reserve completely shattering as I looked at him and started to expel every poisonous thought I had in my head, disregarding how he might take it. "You didn't see the look in his eyes Fillmore, and not just from tonight, for the past two weeks! You weren't there for any of it! You have no idea how serious this is and what happened between us!"

"Then tell me," he challenged, facing me completely and staring defiantly into my eyes, daring me to show him up.

"My job was to get him to trust me," I began. I turned my entire body to face him, ignoring the pains shooting through my body as I moved. They no longer mattered. They wouldn't even begin to overpower the pain I felt in my heart and mind. I looked my partner in the eyes and tried to keep myself together as I told the story.

"I was supposed to get inside his head, figure him out and relay everything I learned to you. I was supposed to find out his plans and take him down." I stopped as I tried to piece together the words.

"And you did, Ingrid," Fillmore said when I fell silent. "You did everything you were supposed to and then some. You shouldn't be feeling guilty about that."

"But I wasn't supposed to make him fall in love with me. That wasn't my intention."

Fillmore's eyes softened. He finally realized what was truly plaguing my mind; I saw it in his eyes. "Ingrid…" he paused, unsure of what to say. "There was always the potential for that to happen. I'm going to be honest…" He rubbed a hand over his eyes and reluctantly revealed to me, "That was kind of what everyone was hoping would happen. For him to like you so he would let you in."

I laughed and looked down, shaking my head at his oblivion. "I don't think you're quite getting it." He frowned, trying to decipher the riddle inside my words. I licked my lips, debating whether I should show him what I meant to Canton, how far Canton was willing to go to keep me with him. I decided. "He really wanted a relationship with me. He was willing to take it to the highest levels to ensure that I stayed with him and to show his love to me. He _wanted_ me, Fillmore." I stared directly into his eyes. It took a moment, but when the severity of what I was trying to reveal to him finally hit him, the spark of fear in Fillmore's eyes almost made me regret telling him.

"Ingrid, no. He didn't."

My heart was beating faster than it had when Wade had the blade to my throat as Fillmore spoke those four small words. I remembered that night I was at Wade's mercy.

I told him what happened.

_We were sitting in Canton's apartment living room. He was discussing everything he planned to do, what his next target was. _

_The rumored X High School treasury. _

_And all he needed were the gossiped about blueprints, which, unbeknownst to him, were still in the process of being forged and planted by the Safety Patrol. _

"_And the only reason I'm telling you this Dee," Canton said, turning towards me and taking my hand, "is because I believe that you and I can pull this off."_

Good,_ I thought while I smiled at him in fake sentimentality. _

"_And because," he paused, looked into my eyes, and said, "I think that you and I are connected." I furrowed my eyebrows, curious as to where he was leading. He chuckled nervously and continued. "I mean, whenever I see you, I just…" He put a hand on my cheek, and it burned with the contact. "Yearn." _

_I smiled at him. "Well, that's cute." _

_He laughed and looked down at his lap. When he looked back up at me, his emerald eyes pleaded with me something passionate, alive and adoring. It sent a shock through my chest I had never felt when I realized what he was saying. _

_He loved me. _

_His lips crashed down onto mine, and, only for the sake of my cover and the mission at hand, I played along. It wasn't anything like I had ever imagined my first kiss being like; it was hard, fierce, and hungry as he bit my upper lip. My heart raced in my chest, but not with lust. Adrenaline, anticipation, and, I realized then, fear. _

_He pushed me down further into the couch and lied down on top of me. I didn't resist, at least not yet. I held his face in my reluctantly shaking hands as his tongue danced across my lips, but I didn't let him in. I felt his hands searching for the zipper on my black jeans and every nerve inside me came alive, electrified, and I finally resisted. _

_I put my hands against his chest and pushed up, making him break away from me. "Whoa," I said, trying to keep my voice steady and play it cool. _

"_Come on," he replied, unfastening my jeans. "Just relax."_

_He kissed me again, his lips scaling my neck as his hands suddenly flew up my shirt, grabbing my breasts. He bit the side of my neck and I felt his jeans swell against my leg. Fear swept through me and I pushed his hands down and out of my shirt. _

"_Wade, stop," I ordered, more firmly, and squirmed beneath him. If there was any time I needed my partner, it would have been that moment. _

_But he had to stay far away from me. This was a serious mission. The connection we had just couldn't be noticed by Canton or else the entire mission could have been compromised. _

_Fillmore wouldn't come. He didn't even know where I was. _

_Fear wrapped itself around me as Wade put his hands around my neck, forcing me down and squeezing hard to keep me from moving as he continued to kiss me, hard and hungry._

"_If at any point you feel you're in any immediate danger," Fillmore said. We had been in Vallejo's office just after I had been given the assignment. Vallejo had gone to address something Junior Commissioners addressed, and it had just been the two of us left in the room. "You protect yourself by any means necessary; I don't care if it blows your cover to pieces, Ingrid. Canton is dangerous and ruthless. He'll do whatever it takes to get what he wants. Protect yourself no matter what the cost to the mission, do you hear me?"_

"_Yeah," I told him. When I saw the look in my partner's eyes, I knew he was bitter. He wouldn't be by my side to protect me. He hated that I was going to be on my own. _

_Just like now._

_It took a split second for me to make the decision between my personal well being and the mission._

_I punched him in the face as hard as I could from such a vulnerable position. I couldn't get much momentum, but it was enough to stun him. He cried out and held his face with the hands that were robbing me of air and I took advantage of his surprise and pushed him off of me. When he fell onto the ground, I stood up and zipped my pants back up as he started to get back up. _

"_Dee, what's your problem?" _

"_My problem?" I said, astonished. "You just had your hands around my neck, practically choking me as you were trying to get in my pants and you're asking me what my problem is." _

"_Dee-"_

"_No, Wade!" I shouted, fear being the only thing fueling me. "You-"_

_My burn phone rang in my pocket, startling the both of us. I reached hastily into my pocket with shaking hands, grabbed the device, and answered it. _

"_What?" I snapped and a startled, familiar voice replied. _

"_Dee?" Fillmore asked, using my undercover name in case someone else was listening or any surrounding parties could hear him. He didn't bother hiding the concern in his voice. _

"_What's up?" I turned my back on Canton and ran my free hand through my hair. _

"_We've got the prints. You okay?" _

_I took a deep breath of relief. He had no idea how great his timing was._

"_Good. Thanks for the heads up."_

_I hung up. _

_And then I left. _


	5. Unfamiliar Tastes

**The Patroller and the Thief**

**A fifth chapter a day early? Man. I spoil you people. You should feel loved. Because you are, and because I feel loved for you guys sticking with me til the end.**

**Yes. You read right. This is "the end". D: **

**But don't worry… I've got plans for a sequel… possibly.**

**Thanks for sticking around and reading on! You all rock, so stay tuned! **

**xXxXx**

**Chapter Five – Unfamiliar Tastes **

**xXxXx**

By the time I had finished telling Fillmore what had happened, his entire body was tense with anger. He was staring down at his bandaged hand in scorn.

"I told Canton I had something to take care of and I left to go see you," I told Fillmore, but he remained silent.

Something awful crept up my stomach, something sickening, as his silence continued. I had no idea what he was thinking, and I couldn't shake the voice inside my head telling me that Fillmore thought the worst of me or I shouldn't have let Canton get so far or I should've done something.

I turned away from Fillmore and I wrapped one arm around my stomach, the other around my chest with my hand on my shoulder, and brought my knees up close to me.

"I guess it was that moment that I realized how deep in I was. That I had taken the mission way too far," I told him, my voice unsteady and breaking. I brought my arms down to my stomach and stared at them, ashamed.

"Ingrid," Fillmore started. "Why didn't you tell me?"

My body started to tremble and my eyes started to water. I couldn't respond, at least not without hysteria settling in. I hoped that if I didn't speak, maybe I wouldn't completely lose it. But I knew that if I didn't speak, Fillmore wouldn't let it go and it would start to break me, piece by piece.

"I-" I wanted to speak but it was like something was holding me back. I put a hand over my eyes, embarrassed and afraid of what he might say.

Suddenly it came spilling out of me. I was stuttering and I couldn't stop myself.

"I didn't know what to say Fillmore, I-I was afraid and I was-I was just…" Fillmore shifted next to me, just as unsettled and afraid as I was. "I was disgusted, with myself and him, and I just wanted to forget about it."

"You don't just forget about something like that, Ingrid," Fillmore said.

"You think I don't get that, Fillmore?" I spat, fighting hysteria with everything I had left and shooting him a defiant glare. "Look, I know it was dumb, but what did you expect me to say, huh? 'Hey Fillmore, you just saved me from getting raped by the creep we're trying to bust don't freak out I handled it'? 'He only molested me, it's not like he actually raped me so I don't need yours or anyone's help, but thanks anyway'? How do-"

I froze when I realized what I had said.

"Ingrid?"

I didn't reply. I stared at the wall, every thought, every lie I had been telling myself buzzed inside my head as I actually processed what I was saying.

_You don't matter. _

_It's not like you were traumatized or something._

_He barely touched you._

I shook my head.

_It was your fault, you didn't stop him. He almost got away with it, and it would have been your fault. _

"Fillmore, I don't know."

Fillmore sighed.

"I'm sorry," I whispered hoarsely, not daring to raise my voice any higher at my partner. I didn't have the right to shout at him like I had.

"Ingrid, it wasn't your fault," he told me. "You have nothing to apologize for."

I shook my head. "I shut you out Fillmore."

"I understand-"

"That doesn't matter," I told him, shaking my head. "I was-"

I hadn't even noticed the tear was there until it fell from my eye and onto the back of my hand. I wiped the tear from my cheek in a desperate attempt to regain composure, but failed when I started to speak again.

"I was out of line, I didn't mean to shout, I just-"

"Ingrid."

"I don't know what came over me."

"Ingrid."

"What?" I snapped, turning my head to look at him sharply. When he noticed the tears in my eyes, he decided not to say anything. When he looked into my eyes, it was like I felt him searching my soul and I felt naked and embarrassed at my vulnerability.

I turned away, propped my elbows on my knees and rested my head in my hands to hide my burning face. I hated feeling like that. Vulnerable and weak were never in my vast vocabulary, but for some reason I couldn't suppress the nauseating emotions as my partner stared at me.

A second later, I felt Fillmore's hand find the top of my back and then gently reach over and squeeze my shoulder. This silent gesture of assurance sent chills shuddering down my body and filled me with an unfamiliar taste of peace.

I took a deep breath, ignored the feeling of the pains in my chest, and dried my eyes. Desperation and fear were gone and life had suddenly fallen silent. The beat of my heart quieted to a dull thud in my chest and my breath was no longer labored. A weight was lifted from my shoulders.

I turned to look at Fillmore who was still staring at me, unsure of what I was going to do next.

"I'm a mess," I joked. Fillmore chuckled and let go of my shoulder, bringing his hands back to his lap and fidgeting with the bandage on his hand.

"Well, I can't argue that," he told me, "but there isn't anything wrong with it." I knew something was coming by the way finished the sentence, like he didn't want to leave something unresolved, but he wasn't sure how to approach it in fear of it coming out the wrong way. He always sounded cautious when he was about to say something profound and insightful to someone. I hated that. Not only because what he said usually had some kind of ironic double meaning to it, but because it always looked as if he knew I thought it was… well, heroic. And maybe a tad sexy.

_Oh, get it together Third. _

"You know Ingrid, it's all right to fall apart sometimes," Fillmore began slowly, choosing his words carefully. His body was tense next to me – he wasn't used to seeing me so emotional – and I hated that I made him so uncomfortable, but once he finished, I realized that both of our walls had been breached and that I wasn't the only one with dark secrets.

"I know I don't open up to you nearly as much as I probably should," he said while staring down at his hands, "but some of the things that go through my head would probably shock you. There are things that I know and emotions I feel that not even I can begin to understand.

"But I've always thought you were so held together, like nothing could sway you. You've got logic and intelligence backing you up every where you go, while I've got-"

"Profound monologues and street smarts?"

He laughed and shook his head. "Whatever. But the truth is Ingrid…" he paused, hesitant, cautious. "It's harder when we're on our own. We all have our lows but everyone, even the brave ones, they depend on someone. At least they need to."

Fillmore finally looked back up at me. His eyes pleaded with me to understand as he struggled to keep his own emotions in check.

"Ingrid, you're my best friend," he told me, "and the last thing I want is for you to feel like you can't come and talk to me."

The sincerity in his dark eyes broke my heart, but I didn't cry. I didn't fall apart.

I took his hand in my own.

"That's a two-way street Fillmore," I said.

He smiled.

"I know."

And it wasn't until that moment that I realized how much I really needed my partner.

**xXxXx**

**I can't wait to hear what you guys think! I hope you loved reading this as much as I loved writing it, you guys are the best! **

**Please stay tuned, I'll hopefully have more for you all soon! **

**Peace, love, and rock always,**

**Jenna**

**P.S. Sorry about the lamecore chapter titles… I wanted to model them after the real episode part titles, but I think I totally failed. **

**P.P.S. I just felt like I should let you guys know… I'm only posting this a day early because I'm in an extremely very happy mood and Doctor Who and Orphan Black both air tonight. So let's hear it for sci-fi and pizza Combos. (I just ate some. Be jelly and tell me all about it in your review.)**


	6. Spoilers for you, my pretties :)

_**SURPRISE! **_

Hey guys! I'm feeling like crap. I'm not gonna lie. Life sucks at the moment; everyone 24/7 complains and whines and lies and I'm piled up with research papers and picking up everyone's slack in the prom committee and I missed my chance to stand out in the pouring rain today because I was in school, so I'm in a severely bad mood, but I'm still getting reviews and favorites from you guys, so I'm suddenly feeling… Generous. And grateful. I suddenly know that there's still someone who's interested in what I have to say. So here's a little excerpt, a reward, from the sequel that's currently in progress. It's coming along slowly, but it's getting done.

Please enjoy! :)

jenna-ellamena .tumblr post/ 48889343772/ an-excerpt-just-for-you-spoilers

Thank you so much for your guys' support, you have no idea how much you mean to me! Every single one of you, you rock!

Peace, love, and rock always,

Jenna 3

P.S. How do you guys feel about Shakespeare as an antagonist?


	7. The Ultimage Linkage

Hey guys! This isn't a story update, I just wanted to get this out there!

I feel terrible about keeping you guys in the dark about my progress, so I've incorporated my every day blog into my writing process by posting about my progress, and I want you guys to be involved! Check out my tumblr to see where I'm at, and I hope to see you there! So stoked about this!

jenna - ellamena . tumblr

See you guys there! Late!


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